eBook
Related collections and offers
Overview
Nothing can kill Caitlyn's love for Aaron O'Brien - not being whisked away to the spirit world by the legendary bean sidhe of her homeland - not even death.
When Irish settlers gather from miles around to celebrate Beltane at the O'Brien family's North Carolina estate, Caitlin McCarthy finds herself unexpectedly in the arms of the family's striking heir, Aaron O'Brien.
But will they ever share more than a single kiss?
When a flood traps Caitlin on O'Brien property and leaves her at Aaron's mercy, it seems so. Their sensual whirlwind courtship quickly escalates, but just as Aaron approaches Caitlin's father to request her hand in marriage, Caitlin finds herself whisked away into the spirit realm.
Can she reunite with Aaron again, or does being Bean Sidhe mean leading a loveless existence?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857159137 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 03/12/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 79 |
| File size: | 275 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
She lives on the US East Coast with her husband, child, dog, horses and overflowing bookshelves. She spends most of her time letting her very active imagination run wild, penning her next story.
When she's not writing, she can usually be found in the saddle or behind a good book with a cup of tea.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
North Carolina, 1823
Caitlin bent to pluck a small purple blossom from the grass, her dark hair falling around her fair face like a curtain before she rose again to hold her find against the sky, examining it. It was small — no bigger than one of her fingernails — but the petals were a creamy shade of amethyst that seemed to glow when the sunlight shone through them from behind, rimming the flower with a halo of violet light. She tossed it into her basket. Looking down at the rest of its contents, she frowned. She'd only managed to gather a sparse handful of wildflowers, and most of them were just as diminutive as the little lilac beauty she'd just picked. This was not owing to some unfortunate circumstance of weather — it had rained often that summer — or some natural lack of colourful foliage in the North Carolina countryside. It was because of the the fact that, for the past two months, she'd been roaming this particular area on the outskirts of the O'Brien property like a madwoman, gathering wildflowers as an excuse for her trespassing.
She stooped down again, this time to pick a dainty buttercup from beside the hoof-worn dirt trail she was so careful not to let out of her sight. She added the flower to her collection, laying it to rest among its equally petite companions, hoping that today would be the day she'd finally need to display them — a colourful if rather pathetic excuse. She would pretend to have been so caught up in flower- gathering that she'd scarcely noticed straying off her own family's property and onto O'Brien land, of course. She'd smile, laugh and pretend to be surprised to have wandered so far and to have run into — of all people — Aaron O'Brien, Squire O'Brien's oldest son. And then, if she was lucky, maybe he'd kiss her again.
She blushed furiously at the thought, adding another buttercup to her collection. The first of May was two months past, but she could still feel the warm weight of Aaron's lips against hers when she thought about it. The O'Brien estate was an empire built on iron, but all of their dozen furnaces and even the forge had been abandoned for that wonderful summer holiday, Beltane. Each and every person had forgotten about work for one glorious day, from Squire O'Brien himself to the forgemen. The O'Briens had hosted a wonderful Beltane celebration on the grounds of their manse, and their Irish neighbours had gathered from miles around to throw a rather raucous harbinger of summer. Caitlin's family had crossed the Atlantic from the Emerald Isle seven years ago to farm some North Carolina land acquired by an uncle who had come before them and had attended. Their presence at the celebration had not been in vain.
Caitlin sweated slightly in the humid southern July heat, but she wouldn't have forgotten it even if it had snowed every day since. How could she possibly forget the way Aaron had seized her around her waist as she circled the maypole and stolen an airborne kiss?
Not in a thousand years.
The real question, she had long since decided, was whether the kiss had been a spontaneous outburst of giddy celebration — perhaps aided by a pint too many of ale — or a manifestation of genuine attraction. She hoped, quite badly, that it had been the latter, but there was only way to find out ... and that was to meet Aaron face to face again.
She'd hardly seen him at all since Beltane, except for a couple of times in brief passing that had offered little more than a chance for a greeting shouted from the seat of a wagon. She was determined to encounter him again — preferably alone — and so had begun to resolutely strip the edge of the O'Brien property of its wildflowers, hoping to meet him riding on the nearby path she knew he favoured. So far she'd been unsuccessful, but she refused to give up hope — her father was fond of telling her that 'you make your own luck', and she'd taken the saying to heart.
She glanced up at the path as she continued to scour the wild summer grasses, her heart sinking for what seemed the thousandth time when the horizon proved to be devoid of human or animal presence. The sky had grown dark.
Another storm.
Sighing, she straightened, shifted her basket into the crook of her elbow, and prepared to begin the journey home.
Maybe I can beat the rain this time.
With that incentive, she gathered up her skirts and stepped quickly through the grass, casting one last wistful look at the path that wound across acres of empty fields and, eventually, into a narrow strip of forest. She nearly dropped her basket when a horse and rider appeared on the road, coming towards her at a brisk pace, perhaps trying to race the storm home.
Frozen in expectation, her heart beating wildly, she stood several paces from the road, watching the figure on horseback transition from a discernibly masculine figure blurred by distance to a distinctly tall, well-muscled young man with a full head of red-gold waves that fell almost to his shoulders, shining even beneath the grey sky.
Aaron!
She'd been hoping for two months to meet him here, but now that he was actually approaching, her mouth was dry and her heart raced. She clutched her basket handle so that her fingers wouldn't visibly tremble and turned to face him with the best smile she could manage as he reined his sorrel gelding to a halt.
"Good morning!" he called, tipping his head in her direction. His hair gleamed a deep red as it caught what sombre light managed to filter through the storm clouds. Butterflies erupted into nervous flight somewhere in the pit of her stomach as his blue eyes met her dark ones.
"Caitlin McCarthy, isn't it?"
The butterflies went mad at the sound of her name rolling off his full lips, which had curved into an amicable smile.
"Yes," she managed to reply breathily, pressing one hand to her belly in an attempt to still the winged creatures that rioted there.
He remembers my name.
"How pleasant to meet you, Aaron. I was just ... gathering wild flowers for a bouquet."
And hoping to God you'd ride by.
She extended her basket as if to prove her claim, baring its contents beneath his gaze.
"Well," he said, grinning as he bent slightly in the saddle to peer into her basket, "looks like you have the makings of a fine bouquet for the wee folk."
Caitlin blushed as she stared down at her collection, remembering again how pathetically small the flowers were. A fairy bouquet indeed ... maybe the wee folk could make a fine centrepiece of it, but she'd have to put the blossoms in a thimble if she intended to display them in her own home. Why hadn't she thought of a better explanation for her presence than her tiny specimens?
The first raindrops struck her cheek as she silently lamented her foolishness.
"Another storm," Aaron said as a raindrop landed below his left eye and streamed down his cheek, giving the illusion of a tear. "I swear it's been raining every day for the past two weeks." Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
You don't have to tell me.
She'd returned home drenched and dripping with a basket of drowned flowers several times over the past couple of weeks.
"Aye, it has, but it does a wonderful job of keeping the crops green."
Aaron nodded. "That it does, but you'll catch your death if you traipse home in the rain. Let me take you." He extended a hand to her from the saddle. "It'll be no trouble," he said as she hesitated.
She clutched her basket handle so tightly that her knuckles went white as she willed her knees, which had suddenly gone weak, to remain steady. This was going as wonderfully in her dreams, and however surreal it seemed, she would not spoil it by pinching herself! She extended a slightly trembling hand and placed it in his, allowing his warm grip to envelop hers. Strangely, the trembling stopped as her fingers disappeared inside his — his touch seemed to calm her nerves, an effect that she certainly hadn't expected.
He pulled her up easily and she wrapped her arms tentatively around his waist as she settled behind him, smoothing her skirts down over her legs as best she could — and upending her basket and spilling her flowers in the process.
"Sorry about that," Aaron said, carefully avoiding staring at her exposed, creamy-white calves and frowning down at the fallen blossoms instead. "Shall I pick them up for you?"
"No," Caitlin replied, embarrassed both by the flowers and her exposed skin. "They wouldn't have made much of a bouquet, anyway." The rain was falling harder now, and she wouldn't have let him stoop to gather her flowers in it even if she had wanted them.
"Aye," he said, "but it might have been nice to have something to appease the wee folk, should we chance upon any during our journey." He turned to grin over his shoulder at Caitlin, who found herself unable to resist smiling back at him.
He's got the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
They'd fluttered shut when he'd kissed her on Beltane, his golden lashes beating softly against his cheek as he'd pulled her into a brief but fierce embrace, pressing his mouth against hers ...
"You live just across the creek at the edge of the McCarthy land, don't you?"
She nodded, flattered that he knew not only her name, but where she lived. Perhaps he had taken notice of her before their kiss ... and perhaps he'd thought of her since. Hope flared bright within her at the thought, and she tightened her arms around his waist just a little as he turned his horse in the direction he'd come from. The rain fell heavily, and, by the time she worked up the courage to speak again, her clothing was thoroughly soaked and Aaron's body heat was the only thing keeping her teeth from chattering.
"It was a lovely Beltane celebration your family held this year," she said over the rain's steady thrumming. Heat crept into her cheeks.
Does he remember?
Aaron replied without turning, sitting as straight in the saddle as ever. "I'm glad ye thought so," he said. "Myself, I haven't had such a good time since."
Caitlin thought the tips of his ears, which barely peeked from his red waves, went pink, though it might only have been a trick of the dull light. Still, his words caused the butterflies in her middle to burst into flight again as she wondered whether he was remembering the feel of her lips, just as she was remembering his.
God send he hasn't forgotten the kiss altogether.
"Here we are," Aaron announced as the dirt trail turned, winding into a stretch of woods housing a stream from which Caitlin had fetched water many times. She could hear the water rushing, the stream engorged with rainfall, its froth surely lapping higher against the banks than usual. There was a bridge across the stream, though, sturdy enough for a horse to cross. It came into clear view as Aaron directed his horse around a cluster of poplars, and Caitlin's stomach plummeted.
"The bridge," she exclaimed, "it's flooded already!"
Its wooden surface was barely visible beneath several inches of rapidly flowing water.
"Aye," Aaron said, frowning as he glanced over his shoulder at her. "I can't think of another place to cross. Do ye know of any?"
"Not if the bridge is flooded," she replied. "There are some stepping stones about a quarter of a mile downstream that would do on a dry day, but they'll long since have been submerged."
"Well, I daren't force my horse across this," he said. "The water looks too strong." The rain fell even harder as he spoke, creating a froth of miniature splashes on the creek's surface as the drops plummeted, dashing themselves against the rushing water and becoming one with it. "I fear we'd be washed away."
Caitlin nodded, her cheek grazing Aaron's rain-soaked shirt, damp but slightly warm with his body heat. "I expect we would be. I've seldom seen the bridge so badly flooded."
"Well, then, we'll ride for my house, and you'll be welcome there until the water calms. When it does, I'll see you safely home."
Her heart suddenly leapt and sped and she hoped he couldn't feel it, beating against his back like a war drum.
"I ..." She had been about to say that she didn't want to impose, but realised that would have sounded idiotic. What else could she do? There was no other crossing point for miles — she was trapped on the O'Briens' side of the creek.
"I thank ye, Aaron," she said quietly. "You're most kind."
Her cheeks flushed with heat as she spoke, as she imagined spending an entire afternoon in his home, waiting for the creek to stop raging.
Thank God he came along today. I'd likely have been drowned or frozen without him.
She tightened her arms a little more around his waist as he turned the horse, relishing his heat as she cast one last look over her shoulder at the uncharacteristically violent stream.
"Don't be ridiculous," he replied. "I'd be a devil not to offer you a warm place to bide during the storm." Thunder cracked overhead again, louder this time.
"But if you hadn't stopped to speak to me and offered to take me home when the first drops of rain fell, I'd have been in a terrible lot of trouble."
"Don't thank me for that, either. Any man with two eyes in his head would have counted himself lucky to have a chance to stop and speak with ye. I was hardly acting out of kindness."
Caitlin was glad Aaron couldn't see her cheeks, because she could tell by their sudden warmth that they'd gone a burning shade of red. Hoping desperately that he wouldn't turn to look over his shoulder at her, she pressed her eyes shut and willed her face to return to its normal colour as cool raindrops streamed down it.
"Well," she said, fighting the mixture of satisfaction and self- consciousness that his unexpected reply had sparked, "all the same, I'm glad I met you today."
"Aye, well, come to that, so am I."
Thunder rumbled — the loudest yet — and Caitlin was glad it allowed no opportunity for a reply. After all, what would she say? The butterflies in her stomach were cavorting wildly, apparently of the opinion that Aaron had noticed her and thought of her since — and perhaps before — Beltane.
Could it be that he'd been just as pleased to meet her by the side of the road as she'd been to meet him? The thought struck her as lightning flashed, unbelievably brilliant and accompanied by a deafening peal of thunder. Blinded, she reeled as the horse rocked beneath her.
I'm going to fall.
The realisation swept through her being, causing her heart to leap in trepidation. She held on to Aaron for dear life. His hard abdominal muscles shifted subtly beneath her grasp as he laboured to control their panicking mount.
Oh God, don't let me fall!
By the time he'd managed to still the horse — mostly — Caitlin's head was spinning, and she realised for the first time that she'd closed her eyes. She opened them slowly and redness filled her vision — the dark crimson of Aaron's rain-soaked hair, to be exact. She still clung tightly to him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder and her breasts against his back, which had remained straight and strong even during the upheaval. She forced herself to lean back a little, trembling.
"Sorry," Aaron said. "This horse is young and still green yet. That's why I rode him so far from home today, to get him accustomed to such frights as he might encounter in the wilderness." He paused. "Though, to be fair, there aren't many horses that wouldn't have spooked at this."
Caitlin became aware of a crackling sound and realised the red invading her vision did not come solely from Aaron's rust-coloured locks. She turned her head slightly to the side and was greeted by the sight of flames, blazing brightly from the brush at the edge of a strip of woods no more than twenty yards from them. The lightning had struck closer than she'd realised. The golden-red hairs that grew on Aaron's forearms stood on end below the edges of his rolled-up sleeves. Had his hair not been soaked, it probably would have been doing the same. Her mouth went dry.
"Aaron —"
She swallowed what she had been about to say, slipping into shocked silence as the burning underbrush at the forest's edge exploded, emitting a howling ball of flame that streaked with alarming speed towards where they sat on the barely-calmed horse.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Spirited Away"
by .
Copyright © 2012 Ranae Rose.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.